17
by outside the crayon box
Summary: "I'm Dylan Marvil. I'm seventeen. I think it's obvious that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." M just for safety. Could really be T.


**less calories, more Pilates**

Massie always pressures me to eat less, exercise more, wear clothes that better flatter my body type. Less calories, more Pilates, as she so eloquently puts it.

I like my body. I like the curves that flare out from my stomach. I like that I actually have boobs. I hate to admit it, but it makes me feel confident when random guys stop me on the street and compliment me on my ass. It makes me feel like I'm doing something right.

I've never told her that.

* * *

**two playlists**

I listen to "weird" bands (read: not the ones _they _like) as I wait for Isaac to pick me up. _Available Light, Marathon, Big Wheel, Camera Eye, Red Barchetta, Red Tide, Presto, by Rush. Flowers of Guatemala, Driver 8, Find the River, by R.E.M. Watershed, Pushing the Needle Too Far, Hammer and a Nail, World Falls, by Indigo Girls. _They mean something to me, I guess.

When the limo pulls up, though, I click through my iPod and pull up my Top 40 songs. Bubblegum pop.

It makes me sick to my stomach that I have these two playlists.

Why do I need to hide myself from my own friends?

* * *

**no confidence, no poise**

"Focus!" Mom's director shouts. "Good job, Ryan and Jaime!" Then he glances to his right. "For Pete's sake, Dylan, get in front of the camera and stop stuffing your face with Oreos. We're live in two."

I drag my feet toward the center of the stage. Mom digs her nails into my shoulders to hold me in place, as though I might run away.

I wish I could.

"Stand up straight, Dylan! Stop slouching. Can you possibly make your hair resemble something other than a lion's mane? Did you put on _any_ makeup this morning? Smile, for God's sake. Why do you look so miserable? You're on TV!"

The red light on the camera clicks on.

"Dylan, this is your part! Say something!"

I just stand there, like a moping, drooling, fat mess of a person.

"No poise, no confidence, no _life_," my own mother hisses to my middle sister. "What a goddamn idiot."

Jaime shrugs and rolls her heavily lined, glittering brown eyes.

"How did I give birth to this... _thing_?"

That's the part that makes me want to kill myself.

* * *

**no emotions**

"Hold my hand," Christopher Plovert whispers as we step out of his house into the chilly winter air. "Don't you love me?"

"I do, I do."

He snatches my hand. "Good! Show it, then."

Later, we're at his house, watching a movie, sitting on seperate sides of the couch. "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why don't you show it? Why do you have no emotions? Why are you so _cold_?"

* * *

**afraid**

I hide out at Derrick Harrington's house to get over the break-up.

His hand is up my shirt, and mine is entwined in his hair. Our lips are pressed together.

Before I know it, I'm lying on his bed, on my back, his hand between my thighs.

I jerk away.

"What the fuck, Dylan?"

"I can't do this." I remove his fingers and clamp my legs together.

He scoffs. "Come on, Dylan. You're a junior. Learn to have fun already."

I swallow. "This doesn't feel right, Derrick."

"Are you afraid of _everything_?"

He shoves me out of the bed and I fall to the floor.

He's on top of me in ten seconds.

My first thought is, _Is this rape?_

My second is,_ I have to tell the police._

My third is, _Why would they believe me over Derrick James Harrington, heir to multi-million-dollar corporation BHC? Who would want to rape Dylan Marvil?_

My fourth is,_ Why does it matter? I deserve to be used. Clearly, I'm good for nothing else._

* * *

**stupid mistakes**

"Yes, just as I thought." Nurse Ragsin clicks through her computer, checking boxes. "Dylan, remind me, how much sexual activity have you engaged in?"

"Almost none. I just lost my virginity three weeks ago." My cheeks flush as I admit it.

"Are you on birth control? Did your partner wear a condom? Do you wear a chastity belt?"

"No, no, and no," I reply, my face now burning.

She clenches her hands into fists. "You're sure this was completely consensual, right, Dylan?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm sure you'll be glad to know that you are indeed pregnant."

Later, I hear her talking to my doctor.

"Many teenager do make stupid mistakes, but Dylan Marvil? Goodness, that poor thing. This is going to create such a scandal. Poor darling."

He laughs gruffly. "I'll be the first one buying People magazine tomorrow."

I rub my hands over my flabby belly.

Pregnant?

* * *

I'm dylan marvil. I'm seventeen. In one month, I will be able to smoke, drive, watch x-rated movies. In one month, I will be a mother.

In one month, I will be eighteen.

I think it's obvious that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

* * *

**i know this isn't good or anything. but it was in my head, and Iihad to get it out. BHC is stolen from statuscrawler's story Revenge.**

**Please R&R.**


End file.
